Jove rules in heaven, his thunder shows;Henceforth Augustus earth shall ownHer present god, now Briton foesAnd Persians bow before his throne.Has Crassus' soldier ta'en to wifeA base barbarian, and grown grey(Woe, for a nation's tainted life!)Earning his foemen-kinsmen's pay,His king, forsooth, a Mede, his sireA Marsian? can he name forget,Gown, sacred shield, undying fire,And Jove and Rome are standing yet?'Twas this that Regulus foresaw,What time he spurn'd the foul disgraceOf peace, whose precedent would drawDestruction on an unborn race,Should aught but death the prisoner's chainUnrivet. “I have seen,” he said,“Rome's eagle in a Punic fane,And armour, ne'er a blood-drop shed,